Before
by Asphodael
Summary: Attempt at 11th division back history oneshot.


Before

After several centuries' time, there are few who remember anything about their deaths, fewer still who remember the life before it. Time and growth slow down, but Yumichika hadn't noticed until several years had gone by. He'd died before he'd hit the end of his growth spurt - that much, he knows for certain - and now, he isn't ever sure he'll hit it. Or perhaps he's just petite. Well, there are worse things to be fated to than being slightly on the short side. Like being ugly, for one.

The first few months (a year? two?) after his death had been occupied only with the thought of survival. Trying to stay alive tended to keep oneself busy, and there was always a kind of hunger that drew him down beaten paths. Passersby told him it was the way to Seireitei, city of shinigami, asked him in the next breath why the hell 'a pretty lady like you' wanted to go there for. "You want to stay away from _them_," they grumbled. "No respect at all, those people. Just because they have a little bit of power..." Yumichika didn't bother telling them about the way he stared at flickering blue flames, held in his palm, late at night under the stars.

First meetings are almost always chance events. _If you didn't stop there, if I hadn't turned left._ They met in a backwater village, in the sole tavern that the place offered, Yumichika drawn to the sparks of raw energy that emanated from the other man. It tugged at him like the city did, didn't abate the hunger but teased at it endlessly and reinforced the compass needle that directed him down the road.

"Where are you going?"

"Dunno. Thataways." Vague gesturing.

"The city?"

"What?"

"North."

"Which the fuck's way is north?"

"That way."

"I guess."

"Good. I'm following you then."

"What."

"So when do we start off?"

_There is no 'we'_, the man growled out, but the next morning found Yumichika tagging behind anyway. The stranger said nothing of it ('I figured you just happened to be going the same way, is all,' Ikkaku will tell him when he mentions it, centuries later), and Yumichika took it as implicit acceptance to his presence. ('And shared rations with?') In hindsight, he supposes they looked rather vulnerable - two men in single file line with one sword between the two of them. ('Now _that's_ 'cause you wouldn't shut up.') Not that he fought all that often. He only had one change of clothes, after all.

He still isn't sure if it's battle-lust or reckless idiocy that leads Ikkaku to attacking Zaraki that day. Probably a mix of both: tedium of the road, and Zaraki's spiritual energy pulled at them hard and strong. _Still hungry, there was never enough to eat._ So he watched with a blank face as Ikkaku stood, fell, stood, fell, cyclical event until Zaraki cleaved the sword in two and Ikkaku crumpled with it. He let a twitch of annoyance flicker in his face then - it was _so_ hard to find decent traveling companions, and despite the fact the opponent carried a babe with him, he doubted it'd be wise to follow them. (Later... well, later, his opinion still hadn't changed, but it was because he knew better. The two of them had such a _horrible_ sense of direction.) It was a relief when Ikkaku pushed himself up, even if only to scream "_It's your win! Kill me!_"

Weeks later, they followed the path Zaraki and his child had taken, followed instinct and directions, and ended at the gates a good stretch before the strange duo did.

"They were going this way, right?"

"Think so. You going to fight him again?"

"Nah. Not yet." Downed stolen wine in stolen cups from stealing hands. Yumichika wondered how many times it had been passed around before it reached them.

"So how are we going to get in? Without a pass."

"The same way we always do?"

Yumichika eyed the wall. "If you think you can break through..."

"Heh, probably not! But. We got luck."

"Luck? What's luck got to do wit-"

"Abduct him. He'd make a good pass, I think!"

It had worked, somewhat. More in the sense that their abductee eventually introduced them to the school after beating them down, but who pays attention to little details like that? Yumichika rubs at chipped porcelain, humming. All in all, they're still alive. Well, as alive as they can be.

"Hey, Yumichika. Whatcha doing?"

"Cups."

"What."

"Mm, it's nothing."

Ikkaku shrugs in the doorway, looks over his shoulder and says, "I'm gonna go filch some sake."

Some things will never change. He puts down the cups.


End file.
